<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Aren't I a lucky lad? by KeiserFranz</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26630509">Aren't I a lucky lad?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeiserFranz/pseuds/KeiserFranz'>KeiserFranz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Beatles (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>?? - Freeform, Fluff, It was after I saw that girl asking Paul about his eyebrows, Light Angst, M/M, Paul just wants to sit on John's lap, Toxic Masculinity, what I bish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:53:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,298</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26630509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeiserFranz/pseuds/KeiserFranz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul had a stressful day and now wants to curl on John's lap. Except there's a lil voice telling him men don't do that.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Lennon/Paul McCartney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Aren't I a lucky lad?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written in 2018, published now bc I was feeling nostalgic, as you can see I was quite into mclennon sitting on each other's laps</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Paul's eyes darted to the direction of John for what was approximately the 588th time that evening.</p><p>He failed at focusing solely on the book that ought to consume all his attention 2 hours ago, straining to make his leering as subtle as possible.</p><p>In a way it carried a sense of familiarity, for he conducted the same "he's not looking - I can steal a glance" routine ages ago, when they were only best mates.</p><p>Fortunately, the agonising (and embarrassing) phase of loving one's friend in Werther-esque fashion ended half a year ago, thanks to George's diplomacy. ("I'm not going to deposit my arse to the studio if ye don't shag any time soon. Hare Krishna.")</p><p>Most of the time Paul felt as if he would burst from happiness any second, but, occasionally, anxious thoughts flashed through his mind.</p><p>With John's bisexuality, damn high sex-drive (not that Paul could be appalled) and his zeal for experiments, Paul realised very early the role of the inexperienced one had been bestowed upon himself.</p><p>And though he couldn't wish for a more understanding and loving partner, it didn't soothe his pride hurting in the most pathetic way - after he had bedded so many birds, confident and smooth and everything, he wished to crawl under a huge stone every time he thought about doing the same with John.</p><p>He liked what they'd done so far, relishing being able to kiss John whenever he pleased, and he doubted he'd come harder with any woman when they recreated the old good jerking circle in a more private setup. BUT at the same time his instinct to perform the best, to appear as unbothered and, foremost, as a man, gave him headaches.</p><p>It was then when he truly saw how much John'd grown as a person. Coming out, ditching the macho version of himself the media praised, talking about emotions, lord, he even apologised now.</p><p>Meanwhile, Paul felt tears forming when yet another journalist, be it a man or woman, pointed out the shape of his eyes or lips; or hair brushed too precisely for a male rocker...</p><p>Like today, he was in the middle of an interview about recording a soundtrack for a new movie, when the reporter asked him whether he plucked his eyebrows. Just like that. Paul wanted to slap him.</p><p>Of course, being McCartney, he avoided the reply, forcing a laugh and charming everybody, but he was utterly exhausted and wanted nothing else than to curl on John's lap, maybe vent a  l̶i̶t̶t̶l̶e̶ lot while listening to his heartbeat. </p><p>2 hours of evaluating the situation and he would rather bite off his tongue than voice the thought swirling inside his head.</p><p>Somehow, John made no fuss about straddling him or flipping them around so Paul was on top, but the fear of appearing too clingy stopped Paul from initianting anything more heated, opting for kisses, praying John would decipher the meaning behind it.</p><p>Sighing, Paul resumed staring, John was looking über-cozy that evening - engrossed by random doodles, face relaxed, hair tousled just right, strong shoulders hugged by a comfy sweatshirt. </p><p>Envisioning what could be, Paul missed the moment when John's head snapped up, eyes automatically drawn to his boyfriend.</p><p>"Paul?" </p><p>Not a single reply. John cleared his throat and tried again.</p><p>"Luv? You there?"</p><p>Judging by the speed his cheeks warmed with shame, there was no way Paul could wave this off. </p><p>He attempted, nevertheless.</p><p>"Yes!" He exclaimed in what he hoped could be considered a cheerful tone. "Just thinkin' about this book 's all." </p><p>John eyed him with a slight smirk, then put the sketchbook aside and patted the sofa.</p><p>"Come head."</p><p>Despite a little voice advising him not to, Paul indeed stumbled up and paced over to John, where he made sure to keep a safe distance between them, inspecting his fingernails.</p><p>He detested when John had encourange him, or rather, the fact that he needed to be told he wasn't doing anything wrong, to be reassured, especially when he'd grown used to his role of Lennon's anchor. </p><p>Strong fingers tilted his chin up, and soft lips  caressed the corner of his mouth before John pulled back, inspecting him with urgent seriousness.</p><p>"Everything's a'right? You've been a bit off today." He paused, furrowing his eyebrows. "I-I haven't said something daft, have I?"</p><p>And if that didn't make Paul even more miserable. </p><p>"No, course not," he chuckled humourlessly. "Just," he took a shuddering breath, "do you think I look like a woman?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>John said it with confidence that surprised Paul. </p><p>"But-but you told me I was like a bird, too!"</p><p>"Well, I did, yeah," John's hand crept up Paul's arm like a spider, a secret gesture they created. "But, I never meant it, god, I was dumb, trying to flirt with you, I guess... But I meant to say you were beautiful, still are, so lovely to look at, handsome if you will, but I never thought you were a girl." </p><p>The hand was now caressing Paul's cheek and his body leaned into the touch absent-mindedly.</p><p>"Even if you are jerking off with your boyfriend, you are still a man. The best man I know. You could prance around in a pink, ruffly dress and still be a man. Yeah?"</p><p>Each word was punctuated by a chaste kiss and he fought tears pricking behind his eyes. "Christ, don't turn into a weeping baby," he cringed.</p><p>Fishing up a tissue and casually dabbing the wet corners, he looked at John's lap again. Then touched his knee.</p><p>"Uhm, John? Would you-?"</p><p>John followed his boyfriend's hand, eyes narrowing in concentration.</p><p>"Do you need water or something? I can get you a cup of tea even."</p><p>The sudden rush of energy his boyfriend emitted pushed Paul over the edge.</p><p>"NO!" he almost yelled, fingers curling around John's upper thigh to keep him still. "Would you mind if I sat on your lap?"</p><p>There. Albeit with a funny voice, he had spoken up, awaiting John's reaction, heart thumping against his ribcage in the rhythm of anxiety.</p><p>"You want to sit on my lap?"</p><p>Mocking edged the words, but the tiny smile John sported compensated for any dumb joke. Paul offered a curt nod.</p><p>"Well, then," John shifted and with one hand firmly splayed over Paul's hip he drew him closer. "Aren't I a lucky lad?"</p><p>It proved to be much more difficult than Paul had imagined, as John let him find the most comfortable position on his own, which only heightened every sensation. Paul became aware of every time their bodies rubbed together as well as his rapid breathing. Worrying he'd be too heavy, he brought his hands to rest against John's chest, huffing when he still couldn't shift his weight. Maybe he should slide down and watch some videos about how not to crush your partner with your backside.</p><p>"Alright?" He cast John a questioning look. "I'm not too heavy, am I?"</p><p>He didn't wait for the answer, already shuffling to lift even more when John pulled him down. Losing his balance in shock, Paul landed on the other man, face buried to the chunky garment. Any protest dying on his lips as soon as John started to stroke his back, fingers kneading tense muscles before kissing the sensitive patch of skin behind Paul's ear.</p><p>"See?" John retorted with an affectionate amusement as he continued his ministrations. "Just perfect, no frettin' needed with that wonderful arse of yours." </p><p>Fatigue weighting down his eyelids, Paul only tilted his head up so he could plant a sloppy kiss above John's collarbone. He was smelling like oranges and paint, the combination with John's steady breathing lulling him to sleep. </p><p>"Lucky, lucky lad." He thought with a dreamy smile as long fingers combed through his hair. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>